Harmless
by Sakusha
Summary: Something is given, something is taken, and something is lost along the way. Somethings are not so harmless after all. Rated for lime.


  
  
**Harmless**

* * *

At first the teasing was harmless. Barely even flirting. But somewhere along the way it came to have a life of its own. He would flirt, give hints of something more, and then go of into the night to finish what he had started with someone else. He would pay to have something that would have been given to him, had he ever followed through with his act.

At first the boy was delighted with the attention. Then confused when it stopped. Saddened when he found himself alone come dusk. Then when he could not stand it anymore, he followed into the dark, and watched as the other drunk himself into a stupor and paid for pleasure in a back alley behind a bar. Pain is what he felt then, as he realized that with all the hints and innuendos, when it came down to it, he just wasn't good enough be to be _his_. But he dreamed. He wanted. He longed for something that wouldn't be his. And then he made his choice.

This night would be different. All day he had endured the teasing, the heated looks, the momentary touches filled with sexual overtures. This night he would give. This night he would take. He followed again in the shadows, and waited behind the bar. Soon enough, he was not alone, and in the darkness the other did not know him. He knew what would happen, he knew it was wrong to conceal himself, but he was desperate to have just a taste of the daily promises, to fulfill just a bit of his own fantasy.

There was no love in the act that he had wished for. The night held no romance. It was ruff and painful. The stench of alcohol and sex mixed with fear. He had loved and not gotten love in return. He had fulfilled his dreams and made it into a nightmare. He gathered his things in silence, picked up the money that had been tossed onto the ground.

* * *

Mornings were always a haze. He was always late for work, from a hangover, or from being otherwise engaged. This time it had been both. He sat up and waited for all his faculties to come together and function as one. He noticed his nightstand had been rearranged. It was somehow different then when he had fallen asleep and it took him a moment to realize why. There was a 5000-yen note sitting there. He paled as a recognized the odd way it had been folded. Every note he ever paid for pleasure with, he folded like that. He never really knew why. And he had paid last night, he was sure. It had been his very last 5000-yen.

He remembered tossing it to the boy as he cleaned up. He remembered the silky hair, the lean tight body. He remembered the lack of words, and the stiff gait as the boy walked away. He remembered he never saw the boys face, only dreamed of whom it might have been had he the guts to do anything about it. And he was frightened now by the lack of missing information. What the appearance of that spent note might mean.

The shop had been open for at least an hour when he finally graced them with his presence. He watched _him _work. He noticed the lack of cheerfulness that the boy had always had. He noticed the way he moved stiff, and tired. He noticed the silence. He felt shame creep into his body as he watched.

He cornered the boy during a break. He held out the note that had been spent the night before, the one that had made its way back to him that morning.

"What's the meaning of this?"

The boy faltered and did not meet his eyes, but stared at the note in his hand.

"You lost it."

He paused. It was not the answer he had been expecting.

"And you. Did you lose something too?"

Again the boy would not meet his eyes, but walked past him as he whispered his toneless answer. "Yeah."

* * *

He smoked behind the shop. He smoked and he cried. For what was given. For what had been taken. For what he had wanted, and for what had been destroyed. He cried for every word that was spoken, and for what was never said. He cried for the tears the boy would never think to cry for himself. But most of all he cried for his cowardice that caused the boy to think himself brave. For they boy who became a man, in a dark filthy alley behind a bar, with a drunk who had known better. The drunk who had ruined that one thing he had wanted the most.

* * *

I write humor too, I swear it! Unfortunately, having a bad day may mean taking it out on my favorite bishonens. Gomen!

I tried to be vague, without being to vague that you do not know whom I am referring too at different parts of the story. I hope that effect was accomplished.

For those who are interested the exchange rate as of 7/24/03 is 118.990 yen per American dollar. A 5000-yen note in worth roughly $42.


End file.
